


in the hands of god (and by grace, my love)

by Finally_Home



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: AND HERE WE GO, Altar Sex, Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Priests, Anal Sex, Church Sex, Fucking in a church, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Religion Kink, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Smut, i did no work, i went to a single catholic mass and all i could think about was the altar sex, it's 3:30 am, sacrilegious, sin - Freeform, this entire work is a sin, yunho pressing changmin down and fucking his brains out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22859023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finally_Home/pseuds/Finally_Home
Summary: He tastes so sweet, so sacreligious - sinning had never felt so good.
Relationships: Jung Yunho/Shim Changmin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	in the hands of god (and by grace, my love)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [woke with your name like tears](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16583786) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



He’s burning, dying, the agonizing pain tearing him apart from the inside out. His eyes snap open, but all the can see is darkness, the kind that’s impossible even with the curtains drawn. He opens his mouth, screams, but no sound comes out, and a pair of lips crashes into him, swallowing his desperate, silent pleas. The hands gripping his hips tighten, pushing him deeper into the bed, and he gives in, falling limp into the thrusts, letting the hands roam down his chest, losing himself in the pure pleasure of it all.

_ Give me the sin _ , he wants to say, as the body above him hisses and picks up the pace, thrusts turning shallower as spots of light dance in his vision.  _ Let me feel the sacreligion in my blood _ . But he can’t say anything, can’t think of anything but the flames of sin writhing around his body, consuming him until his back arches off the bed. A scream erupts from his throat, and he cums, harder than he ever has in his life, and feels a scalding liquid coat his insides, burning like no normal fire originating from this mortal earth.

The pressure on his bed vanishes, and he can see again. Moonlight streams in through a crack in the curtains, and his breaths come short and fast, still caught up in the high of just a split second ago. He sits up slowly; the liquid inside him leaks out, gleaming white under the dim light, and he lets out a shaky breath. When had he turned to the other side? At what point in time had he begun to lather himself in sin, and when had it become too late to turn back?

He stands and draws the curtain. The room plunges into darkness, and he curls up under the warmth of his blankets, wishing that he could extinguish the fire eating away his heart.

\---

He sees him again on Sunday, standing at the altar with little more than a smile on his face. Priests aren’t supposed to smile, he thinks, but what would he know about the goings-on of the church? The man’s eyes roam the crowd, and he ducks his head, slips into a pew in the back of the chapel, and waits for Mass to begin.

Jung Yunho. The priest’s name is Jung Yunho, as advertised on the pamphlet in the Bible-holder in front of him. Of course, he already knew that, but it still gives him pause, hesitating before taking the piece of paper in his hand. He doesn’t bother with the Bible, knowing full well that he wouldn’t understand the text anyway. Instead, he opens the pamphlet, finds the short passages of music, the scheduled readings, the longer prayers that not even the most devout Catholics are obligated to memorize.

The sweet musk of incense makes him feel dizzy, and between the loud organ and the singing of everyone around him, he wants to fall asleep, lie down on the padded seat and close his eyes and listen to Father Jung’s calm voice speak about loving your friends but loving your enemies more. But Yunho’s eyes meet his own, smoldering with passion, and a thrill goes through him. Suddenly, he’s hyperaware, sits up straight, and Yunho looks at him, gaze burning, deliberately choosing his words over why he finds it so hard to pray for those closest to him, and the sweetest jolt of electricity runs down his back.

It’s a torture something terrible, having to sit through the entire hour, watching Jung Yunho prepare communion in his flowing robes, making the sign of the cross to the crowd, to the wine, to the altar boys. He’s so beautiful, hair falling into his eyes as they close, perfectly pink lips moving in silence, praying for himself, for the crowd, for him. The stage lights shine off his porcelain skin, there’s a slight crease in his brow, and then the ushers are guiding the people out of their pews, up to the altar.

In many ways, Catholicism is a cult. He shuffles forward with the line, suddenly self-conscious. What’s he doing here, lining up for communion? He barely even practices his own religion, much less someone else’s, but the fire burning in the pit of his stomach screams at him to join this one, just so he can see the beautiful priest every day, every week, hear his smooth voice spin the nonsense text of the Bible into something real. He would quit his own religion for him, would give up so much more, his life, his soul. By this point, he’s not even sure how far he would go.

To the ends of the world, perhaps, for one just look, one piercing glance that sends his heart into palpitations, dissolves his stomach into butterflies. The line grows shorter, and he recalls what he’d been told once, by his best friend, how to receive a blessing instead of communion. So when he steps in front of Yunho - oh, how the priest’s eyes twinkle - he crosses his arms in an X across his chest, and Yunho bows his head, makes the sign of the cross, may God bless him and be with him in spirit.

He stays, long after the crowd has dispersed and the other officials gone home. He stays, sitting in the back of the church and looking straight ahead at the altarpiece, eyes fixated on the golden cross in the center.  _ Oh God _ , he prays, though he can no more speak to God than any other gentile.  _ God, please, give me the strength. How can I not think of him? How do I resist the temptation when the devil himself is in front of me? _

And in front of him he is, the devil in his green church robes, looking down at him with just the trace of a smile on his face. He looks up at him, at a sudden of for words, and swallows, eyes drifting to the mole above his lip. The priest does not sit, and he does not stand. They stay locked in the position for a while, and then, Yunho holds out a hand. Slowly, deliberately, as if inviting him to a dance. His fingers are long, slender, and he only hesitates a moment before taking it.

‘Changmin,’ the devil whispers, a smile growing on his face. Changmin shudders with the silkiness of his voice, letting the priest lead him down the aisle. Amidst the incense, he smells something else, something more sinister, and a wind springs out from nowhere. The candles flicker and cast ominous shadows on Yunho’s face. His eyes seem darker, less friendly, overrun with some emotion that might have been called possessiveness, and he pushes Changmin onto the altar, presses a leg between his, and kisses him.

He tastes so sweet. Changmin sighs into the kiss, eyes flutteing shut, but even as they do, he notices the candlelight turning red. Bright blood-red, illuminating the chapel in the color of hellfire, washing them over in the deepest sin. And sin they do, Changmin’s hands tearing at Yunho’s robe, Yunho’s fingers deftly undoing Changmin’s belt, their mouths hot and heavy on each other, and Changmin finally tilts his head back, gasping for breath. He imagines he looks debauched, lips swollen, chest heaving, eyes glazed over in desire. The look in Yunho’s eyes mirrors his own, dark with lust, and he runs his tongue across his lips, slowly, as if savoring his taste. Changmin’s cock hurts in his pants, and he grabs Yunho’s hands, placing them on his waist. He wants him, wants his lips and his cock and his sin, wants it badly, grinding his ass on the other man’s crotch as unsubtly as he can.

A dangerous grin spread on Yunho’s face, and he leans in close, pushing down Changmin’s pants, dragging the backs of his fingers along the expanses of exposed skin. ‘Does it make you feel good, the sin? You get off on sacreligious actions? We are in God’s house, remember.’

‘Fuck that,’ Changmin all but snarls, ripping at the pressed shirt Yunho wears under his robes. ‘I’m no Catholic, and you know full well what you are.’

Yunho chuckles lowly, hoisting Changmin up onto the altar. ‘Yes,’ he says, pushing him down, spreading his legs. ‘Neither of us are children of God, are we?’

He doesn’t know when Yunho dropped his own pants. There is no lube here, and Changmin hisses at the raw pain of entrance - Yunho is not small - back arching up off the cold marble. He curses, voice cracking, and Yunho runs his hands up his thighs, burning his skin wherever he touches, and pushes further in. Tears prick at his eyes, but when Yunho bottoms out, they turn from pain to pleasure, and the feeling of the length of Jung Yunho’s cock inside him has Changmin writhing, hands gripping at the pathetically-thin altarcloth beneath him, begging for him to move.

Yunho presses kisses to his neck, whispers a godforsaken curse, and moves. It feels like fire, springing up from the cursed earth itself and licking at his body. Changmin burns in it, with it, cries echoing hollowly in the emptiness of the chapel, grasping desperately at Jung Yunho’s shoulders. His head falls back onto the altar with a dull thump, and he looks up, up at the arched ceiling, the paintings of Christ on the crucifix, and loses himself in the steady rhythm of Yunho’s thrusts, his name falling like a prayer from his lips.

The devil’s name, a prayer on this holy ground. Changmin closes his eyes, squeezes them tightly shut as Yunho’s lips leave a scalding trail down his neck, his breaths hot and stuttering against his ear. ‘Fuck,’ he half-growls, fingers pressing bruises into Changmin’s hips. ‘Fuck, Changmin,  _ fuck _ . I want to ruin you, I’m going to ruin you, fuck you so hard you’ll never be able to redeem yourself, come in you and comdemn you to eternal hell. You’ll never achieve salvation, not now, not ever, not with my seed in you.’

_ I don’t want to _ , Changmin cries silently.  _ You’re my salvation, I don’t need anything else.  _ Yunho slows down, and Changmin lets out a broken moan, throwing an arm over his eyes. He wants more, wants Yunho to lose his self-control and pound into him, wants the candles to fall from their perches with the shaking of the altar, wants the decorations to clatter to the floor, wants Yunho’s cock, long and hard and deliciously slow, sweet like the sins they commit together, betraying God’s word and trust. Changmin wants the devil, wants to burn to ash underneath his fingers, wants those perfect lips to take his breath away, wants his hands on his cock, even if it means a curse of eternal damnation.

‘Yunho,’ he gasps, eyes flying open as the man finally -  _ finally  _ \- takes his cock in one hand. Red lights dance on the high ceiling, and Changmin can’t stand the unpredictability of Yunho’s movements. It drives him crazy, delirious one second and painfully frustrated the next. ‘Ah,  _ Yunho _ \--’

The altar shakes with the force of his thrusts, solid stone rumbling underneath the demon and his lover, desecrating the holy house of God. The cock in his ass picks up pace, pounding harder, deeper, and a strangled scream tears itself out of Changmin’s throat as he cums, strands of white spurting onto his shirt and Yunho’s hand, but he’s still being fucked, deeply, harshly, can barely stand the overstimulation and mewls and cries, twisting his body on the cold stone. Yunho’s fingers dig into his hips, and then hellfire, pure unadulterated fire, pours into him, and Yunho hovers, eyes shut, teeth clenched, lips moving in a silent prayer as he fills Changmin to the brim.

It spills out of him when Yunho pulls out, drawing from his lips a soft, breathy gasp. Yunho looks at him - the candles are back to their normal pale yellow - and helps him off the altar. They do not speak to each other, not when picking up the candlesticks on the ground and returning them to their rightful places, not when they straighten the cloth on top of the stone and smooth out the sinful wrinkles, not when they walk together down the aisle, Yunho’s hand resting possessively on the small of his back.

_ You’re mine _ , the gesture seems to say.  _ You’re one of my own, the sinners, the heathens. You belong to me.  _ But the look Yunho gives him is far from that. It’s soft, sweet, with just a hint of shyness, as if he was not just fucking him on the most sacred of objects in the most holy of places. He dips his fingers into the holy water in the lobby of the church, touches Changmin’s forehead, and makes the sign of the cross.

‘May God be with you and your spirit,’ he says, eyes turning black for just a split second. Changmin looks at him, looks at him, looks at him more, and pulls him in. Their mouths meet - Yunho smiles - and the church bells chime one o’clock.  _ I want you _ , Changmin’s mind snarls.  _ I want you to take me away, take me, own me, possess me. I belong to you, you, only you. I love you. _

It’s Yunho who breaks the kiss, gently shoving him away and out the church door, into the sunlight. He stands framed in darkness, shadows dancing on his face, smile just a touch more sinister than before. ‘I’ll see you next week, Changmin.’

**Author's Note:**

> um so
> 
> i went to a catholic mass for the first time in my life (with my catholic friend) and legitimately all i could think about was 1. amazing incense they use; 2. beautiful cathedral; and 3. fucking on that altar
> 
> i am not religious, i am sorry to anyone who is. writing this made me (tired as fuck it's 3:30) feel only slightly more guilty than regular sin makes me feel, though religion is always a topic i try to respect


End file.
